


Post Mortem

by VerityR



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, ill advised coping mechanism with a side of survivors guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:46:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerityR/pseuds/VerityR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Ruby woke up. With the rest of their friends dead or gone, Jaune and Weiss mourn in their own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Requiem

She had been dead for three days. Three days and... well, Jaune didn't know how many hours, exactly. He hadn't been there.

Which made it easy, initially, not to believe. But Ruby was there, and Weiss. Ruby and Weiss, who were supposed to have saved her. Well, he was the one who was supposed to have saved her first. Not that he could have. Even if she had wanted him too. 

None of it was right. She shouldn't have needed saving at all. Maybe it would've felt better, he thought sometimes, if her death served some kind of purpose. It didn't help to dwell on that. 

No greater good was worth losing her. And it didn't matter either way now. 

It was funny, how each day managed to reach a new low. First day, Ren and Nora, hospitalized. Ruby, comatose. Yang, missing a goddamn limb. Their uncle, making travel preparations and refusing to take either of his nieces to a hospital, arguing about it with Weiss. Blake and Yang, devastatingly quiet through it all. He was quiet, too, now that he thought about it. Blake left that night, and something in Yang snapped. She wouldn't speak a word. Not to him, not to Weiss, not to her uncle. It would've been easy to resent Blake, but Jaune understood the impulse wholly. He'd run too, if he had somewhere to go. Second day, visiting Ren and Nora. Trying how to explain to his teammates just how he let her die. Trying to convince himself they didn't blame him. Ruby and Yang gone by then. Weiss calling him, saying her father was making her go home. 

Maybe he thought Ren and Nora would rather be with each other than with him. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he was just being polite. For whatever reason, on the third day, he went to go see Weiss. 

As he buzzed into her apartment, something clicked. Jaune was beginning to appreciate how rare it was, the chance to say goodbye. 

"You decided to stop by after all," Weiss observed coolly, as she opened the door. She'd be expecting him much earlier. He'd forgotten. 

"Yeah, I mean... I didn't have anything— that is, I wanted to... you have a nice apartment?" he finished weakly, hoping this was a scenario where it was the thought that counted.

"Oh. Thanks, I suppose," Weiss answered distractedly, "My father thinks it's handy to have property in all the kingdoms. Sort of a contingency thing."

Rich and vaguely creepy. He sounded like he could be related to Weiss, all right.  
"You want anything? Water?" She led him through the kitchen, grabbing a glass before he could answer. "Because I'm having water."

It was only as she began gulping down water without pausing to breathe that Jaune realized she had been red-faced and maybe slightly out of breath the entire time.

“Been training or something?" Jaune asked, when she came up for air.

"Well," said Weiss, as she led him through the hall, "I was supposed to be packing. But the packing turned into me breaking things, which turned into me doing chin-ups so I would stop breaking things." 

Jaune raised an eyebrow. Maybe if he worked out when he got pissed he’d be as buff as the rest of his friends. "And how'd that work out for you?"

"None of my stuff is packed and I'm sweating like a pig. Less broken possessions, though."

He smirked. "Can't leave if you don't pack. That's a classic. Pretend you can't find something important."

Weiss sniffed haughtily, opening the door to what was presumably was her room, though it was exceedingly sparse, save for the opened luggage running over with unfolded clothes. 

"My father doesn't particularly care about what I consider important."

Jaune settled sort of awkwardly on the floor, feeling strange towering over Weiss in her own room, as strange as it was to consider the stark white cell a place that anyone could call their own. Silence hung between them. Weiss peeled off her structured white jacket, tossing it carelessly behind her head and cracking her back for good measure. He couldn’t help but note the bizarre image of the put-together Ice Queen sweating and sore in a tank top. Even in the battle she had been untouchable. Before.

“So, Jaune,” she intoned, making uncomfortably deliberate eye contact, “Maybe we’re not best friends,” Jaune snorted, then pointedly avoided her gaze. She shot him a withering look in vain, and began to shake out her hair. Weiss went on. “But maybe for tonight we could be, ah, drinking buddies.”

Jaune cocked his head, confused puppy-dog style. Both at the suggestion, he realized, and her words, slang sounding as out of place in her mouth as diamonds in a paper bag. 

Weiss opened one of her dresser drawers, producing a flask with a theatrical flourish. He stole a glance at the drawer’s remaining contents, and was shocked at their normalcy. Ribbons, worn books, loose photographs… it was all the teen girl stuff that was so visibly absent from the rest of the place. It was stuff that reminded Jaune of his sisters, and of Nora, and… well. Anyway. He felt stupid and guilty and sort of mean in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. Jaune had put Weiss on a pedestal a long time ago, but he always resented her for being there. It freaked him out, when he stopped to realize just how badly he wanted to think of her as remarkable.

Jaune took a stupidly long time to speak. Had he ever seen her hair down before? He must’ve, he decided, but not like this. Not so messy, not so close up. Her end-of-the-day smudged makeup bled into the bags under her eyes. The effect was dirty and dangerous and strangely appealing. She wasn’t so perfect. Maybe that’s why he said yes.

“Where did you even get a flask?” Jaune found himself unable to ask, after he choked down his first sip. 

He had sort of expected that question to earn him an eye roll, but instead Weiss just grinned at him, a little nastily. 

“Haven't you heard? I always get what I want.”

Same as always, that attitude. Strange, when everything else was different. Like her eyes, glittering with boldness and alcohol and looking right at him, or through him, maybe. Jaune didn’t know quite what to do with that.

Weiss, laughing as he sputtered and coughed. Weiss, snatching the flask from him. Weiss, throwing her head back to drink, exposing the white column of her neck. Jaune, watching her swallow.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to wait your turn, princess?” he said, with mock indignation. She let out a prissy little, “Hmph!”, which didn’t exactly help her case.

“After all, we are supposed to be drinking buddies.” Jaune was nudging her, pushing his luck, “I think that calls for a little sharing.”

“If you want it so bad, come and get it,” Weiss said primly, shaking the tin above her head.

Some toxic mixture of alcohol and loneliness and stupidity must’ve been pounding in his veins, because without even thinking, Jaune tackled her, and began prying her fingers from the flask, one by one. 

“Ugh! I was kidding, you big oaf!”, she protested through gritted teeth, “I’m sending you the hospital bill for the lung you just collapsed.”

“Collapsed lung, huh?” Jaune asked, grinning. He eased off, but was still straddling her, which should have made him more uncomfortable than it did. “Guess I don’t know my own strength!”

Weiss cocked an eyebrow, and before he could fully process that particular expression, his back was hitting the floor with a dull thud.

“Yeah,” she said, dusting herself off unnecessarily as she stood, “You really don’t.” With a shake of her hair and a hand placed squarely on her hip, she was back to the Weiss he knew. Only, generally, she was only stepping on him metaphorically. 

“You might want to opt for pants in the future,” he said boldly, as her heel dug into his sternum, “If you start making a hobby out of this ‘stepping on dudes’ stuff.”

Surprisingly, instead of piercing his heart with her stiletto, Weiss let out a little bark of a laugh as she walked away. 

“Don’t be vulgar, Jaune,” she chided him, as she slid off her shoes and sat on her bed. “And you’ll excuse me if I refrain from taking the fashion advice of a boy who’s always wearing the same ratty sweatshirt.”

Jaune sat up then, instinctively defending himself, though he didn’t really care. Arguing with her felt like sparring. Well. What he imagined sparring was like for people who were actually skilled fighters. 

“What’s wrong with my sweatshirt?” So easy.

“Do you want to start with the fundamental concept of the sweatshirt, or of the dubious hygiene of the one you wear? Either way, I wouldn’t sweat it,” Weiss said glibly, patting his cheek, “It’s part of your charm.”

She tipped the flask in his direction. He drank. 

They settled in, ended up sitting on her bed together, legs intertwined. They passed the flask back and forth, then the bottle, once the former had been satisfactorily drained. Jaune’s hand closed over her’s, over the neck of the glass. Her fingers, surprisingly warm. Not made of ice, after all. But she still seemed sculptural. Not to be carved, but to be molded. He drank and liquid heat throbbed, made everything beautifully blurry and dull. It barely hurt at all.

In fact, it had never been so easy to talk to Weiss before. Jaune couldn't imagine now what had made it so hard. But even as much as he must have annoyed her, there was enough good between them for nostalgia. They talked about all the good stuff, all of the stupid jokes, and irresponsible things they did and inexplicably weren't punished for. What it felt like to do good while still feeling safe, invincible, on top of the world. Remembering with someone else somehow felt sacred, reverent. It was a gasp of air for the drowning. But there was always that bitter undercurrent, that feeling that all the of the good was behind them. Even when they had nights like this, where they could breathe and laugh and remember the right stuff, it would never be the same again. It was all just stories now. Entire people, just common recollections.

Jaune and Weiss eulogized their friends the best they could, the dead and gone and in between alike. It was the only thing they could do.

“Huh. It got late,” Jaune noted idly, swirling around the paltry remains of the bottle. 

“Need to get going?” came the kind response, maybe too kind, because Jaune forgot to pretend like he had somewhere other than the hospital waiting room to head back to.

“What? No! I mean, nah, I don't— I haven't—”

“Jaune…” Weiss started, adopting a disturbingly motherly tone, “Where exactly have you been staying? I assumed you were with your family but— Jaune, do they even know you're alive?” 

Jaune felt his jaw clenching, muscles tightening. He couldn't stand to look at her. 

“Yes, they know I’m alive, not that it's any of your business. We aren't on the best of terms right now is all. It's... complicated.”

Weiss jutted out her chin, crossed her arms. “Because what would I know about family conflict, right? My father is only dragging me off to another continent against my will.” 

“Look, Weiss,” he sighed, “it's a bit of a story.”

“Which is different exactly how from what we've been doing all night?”

Weiss was right infuriatingly often. 

“Fine, fine. You asked for it. But I'm gonna need— " he drained the bottle with a few deep swallows.

"Why, yes, Jaune, you can finish that bottle. Thank you for asking.”

"So!" Jaune started, ignoring her, "don't know if you picked up on this, but I’m not exactly the most qualified student Beacon has ever had,”

Weiss coughed primly.

“Oh, shut up. Telling a story here.”

She looked at him with big eyes. “Jaune, I didn't say anything.”

“Sure. Anyway, I didn't go to combat school, okay? But it's not like I… I mean, I deserved to go to Beacon— I—” Jaune stopped. “Well, I thought I did, anyway. You of all people know how much family legacy stuff can mess up your head. And my parents, my grandparents, they all hunted Grimm. I just thought…”

Jaune inhaled. If he wasn't looking at her then it was like he wasn't talking about it at all. Like it wasn't real.

“You know I have a bunch of sisters, right?”

Weiss nodded.

“Well, I had a brother too. Or I guess I almost did. He died, same day as my grandfather. My mom was so torn up when it happened, she… well, she had been taking care of the baby by herself. The baby was sick, my dad was away on a mission, my grandfather too. She was already worried about her baby and being alone and my dad coming back in one piece, and when the bad news came... something in her sort of broke. The Grimm were crawling around the place in a heartbeat. An Ursa Major, a couple of Deathstalkers, I think. And there's my mom, unarmed and trying to protect her kid, and they just keep coming as she gets more and more desperate. She tried but…” He trailed off, licked his lips. No one needed to know all that. Why couldn't he stop talking? Why wouldn’t all the hurt stay inside him, where it belonged?

A small hand on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You can stop, you really don't have to— ”

“Just stop it! I don't need— ” Jaune screwed his eyes shut, forced himself to breathe. He was strangely lightheaded. “No, I’m sorry. I’m… I haven't… I didn't mean to yell at you.”

Weiss’ expression was tight and unreadable. She nodded again.

“Anyway, you get the picture. With all that. You can imagine what that did to my parents. But me, I didn't know about any of this for a long time. My sisters can remember back when my parents were more, you know, messed up about it. They never really had a problem with the “no combat school” edict. But by the time I came around, I'm the new son. I'm the do-over. So, of course, I'm the one off recklessly endangering myself because I think I need to prove something, some family legacy thing. Like, as if my parents just think I’m weak. They were just worried about me. And with all of this… it’s stupid, but I don’t want to admit to them that they were right.”

“Speaking of reckless endangerment,” said Weiss, finally, carefully, “May I ask how you even got into Beacon at all?” 

“Oh!” Jaune said, with some amusement, “I didn't.” 

For a beat, Weiss just looked at him incredulously. Pinching her temples, she asked, "Then how...?"

“You know, they do still teach you things at normal school.”

“Such as?”

“Such as hacking. Well, it’s not exactly on the syllabus or whatever, but I went to, you know, one of those tech schools. Basically, I got into the Beacon application database and compiled a transcript that was a composite of their best entrants.”

“But! But!" Weiss began gesticulating wildly. "The hard copies of those transcripts have to have watermarks! They have to have signatures!” 

Jaune just shrugged, eating it up. He was dizzy still, but the good kind. Empty and easy.

“Your last name doesn't have to be Schnee for you to have connections.”

Weiss shook her head, and he couldn't tell if she was chastising him, or just in disbelief.

“It would have made more sense to present himself as an average candidate. No offense,” (Jaune rolled his eyes) “but you didn't know what aura was when you got here. How Ozpin and Glynda didn't figure you out— ”

Weiss trailed off, leaving them in an uncomfortable pause. The fact of Ozpin’s absence pervaded the air unbearably.

“You know,” Jaune mused, to break the silence, “Looking back, they probably did. Maybe I got points for creativity.”

“You mean deceitfulness.” 

He shrugged, bristling slightly.

“Deceit is a skill,” Weiss said, insistently, “And a useful one. Honestly, Jaune, did anyone on your team even know what you could do?”

Jaune was quiet. A slick dread started seeping into the pit of his stomach.

“Pyrrha did, didn't she?” Weiss asked in a small voice.

“No, actually," Jaune spat, with venom that surprised even him, "I told her I was a liar and a cheater and, shockingly, she had no follow up questions! Pyrrha didn't see my character flaws as something to exploit! Don't know how she missed that one!"

Weiss didn't flinch at his yelling in the slightest, eyes widening just by a fraction.

“I... I won’t to apologize for not being Pyrrha."

Jaune sighed with unrestrained impatience. The veins behind his eyes were throbbing. “You know that isn't what I meant. I just can't deal with— with that,” he  
finished vaguely.

With knowing there was more he could have tried? Ways he could have helped? Thousands of millions of things he should have told her?

Weiss’ eyes were far away. Jaune wasn't sure he really cared.

“Ruby said she was— " she swallowed hard "Well, that she was— that by the time she got there, it was already too late. You get to go on knowing that you called for help right away, but I was there. We could've been faster. How could you— don't you think I feel responsible too?” 

She looked up at him, blinking rapidly, eyes beginning to brim over with tears. His fault, too. Jaune resented this, despite himself. Or who he wanted himself to be. But he was already drowning. How could he possibly keep her afloat?

“Weiss…” It wasn’t really an apology at all. But she would project onto it what she needed. Maybe that would be enough.

She sighed, rested his head on his shoulder and Jaune’s eyes snapped shut. If he closed his eyes, he was back. None of it had happened. It was dark and he could still save her. She should have let him save her. 

“What happened between you too?” came the quiet voice— wait, had he been saying all that out loud? It didn't really matter, he supposed, not with a mouth so close, so hot on his neck.

Yes, hot, that was right, she hadn't been cold after all. Weiss was remarkably warm and small under his hands Jaune found, as he started rubbing her back. Smaller than— small. Maybe he could hold onto something this small.

Jaune kissed her, which was funny, because it was actually the answer to her question. What happened between you two? What will never happen between you two? It didn't matter because Weiss was more eager than he could've anticipated, if he had ever stopped to anticipated such an impossibility. But why shouldn't she be? She was alone now, too. And leaving. Jaune wrapped his hands around her waist and— oh! — his fingers touched, this was different. He could hold her completely. They would have time. She opened her mouth, and that was different too. She sidled onto his lap, his brain whiting out. They came apart for a horrible second to breathe. Their distinction was unbearable. But Jaune knew— he knew —he could make it last this time. He turned his attention to the crook of her neck, inciting in her a ridiculous little breathy noise that he suddenly needed to exploit. He kissed his way from her sharp jaw to her perfect collarbones, driven by the sweet thrum of her low, heaving breath, by the rhythm as she rutted into him. Jaune sucked a bruising kiss on that pale neck, now there was proof, and she was almost whimpering. Ravenous. He needed so much. The lips and the neck and the slim legs around him, the thighs he had never before even imagined his fingers digging into, which was crazy. And she was on him, touching his face, his chest, she wanted him too, insanely, inconceivably, as if this wasn't impossible enough but she had never made noise in his dreams before and he couldn't imagine a thing so soft he couldn't have made something this good in his head. Her small hands in his hair and her body melting into him obscenely, completely, and it was truly too much, it was so much more and she said his name in her high, cold voice, shattering it all.

This was Weiss. 

Of course it was. He knew it was Weiss, and hadn't he dreamed of this before? For ages, months, even, if he had given up or moved on or forgotten who could fault him with everything else and with what almost happened and almost was everything but who cares when this was even more than everything and he could make it last and never have to leave this oneness this warmth this—

This was Weiss.

Pyrrha. He wanted Pyrrha. He was supposed to choose her, even just her memory. That should be enough for him. That was everything.

Jaune had known that the kiss was all they were ever going to get and he had ruined it. The last person who kissed him would have always been Pyrrha. She’d be with him. And now she never would be. Never really was.

It all kept going without her. He kept going without her. It wasn't fair. If he couldn't have Pyrrha no one else should be enough. 

So why did this feel like enough? 

Because he was selfish. Because he was weak.

“I have to go.” 

She pulled away from him at once. Like she’d been shocked. 

“Okay,” said red-lipped Weiss.

Shouldn’t she be more upset? Jaune sort of wanted her to be more upset. To argue, to be hurt, to show him something. But this was Weiss, Weiss who he could not even begin to understand. He had never even really tried to.

Weiss stood, gathered her hair, tying it back with a snap of elastic.

“Then go already.”

Good. Fine. Coldness was all he should expect from her. All he should want.

“I’m gone.”


	2. Rot

Jaune slammed her bedroom door behind him. Seconds passed. The front door, too. For good measure, she supposed. Thorough, she could say that for him, as rejection and reverberation buzzed through her skull in equal measure. Weiss lied down for a strangely numb minute and a half. It was a little easier than usual not to think, but much harder to move. Intoxication had its trade-offs, it seemed.

Decidedly, Weiss jumped off her bed, held back instantly by the tiny, punishing stars pulsing from behind her eyes. Okay. Okay. Slowly, now. If she could take this slowly. A shower, she decided. After all that… exertion, that’s just what she needed. 

It was embarrassingly difficult for Weiss to navigate to the bathroom. But she got there, saw her flushed face reflected back at her in blurry strokes. The Weiss in the mirror looked exceedingly iffy. She took stock. Sweaty, limp ponytail already falling out. Formerly passable eye makeup, degraded into smeary, gray crescent moons. The front of her tank top clung to her chest with sweat. Not to mention the ridiculous way her head was swaying and lolling around, as if her neck had lost all will to function. Maybe… if she could just sit… for a second… why, yes, the cool marble of the tile was just as refreshing as she’d thought it’d be. 

Ten seconds. Weiss would allow herself ten seconds of sitting on the floor before facing reality. And a shower.

Ten.  
What was wrong with him?  
Nine.  
What was wrong with her?  
Eight.  
What had she even expected to happen?  
Seven.  
It seemed like he had liked it, though, right?  
Six.  
Not enough to stay.  
Five.  
A ridiculous thing to think, when she was the one who was leaving.  
Four.  
At least she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone about it.  
Three.  
Or see him.  
Two.  
Not that she could see or talk to any of her friends.  
One.  
Maybe not ever again.

Not exactly a stellar consolation prize.

Stop. It was time to get up. It hadn’t meant anything while it was happening, and it didn’t mean anything now. Except for that she was an idiot. And he was an ungrateful idiot, who should’ve been begging her, who should’ve been on his knees for the barest glimmer of her acknowledgment, who should’ve- 

Stop.

Weiss stood- a little wobbly, but she did. Wrested the elastic out of her ratty hair. Peeled off her sticky clothes, faltering only when she had to balance on one leg to roll down her tights.

And then, magically, mercifully: Heat. Water. Noise. Enveloping her, stripping her, lashing into her until she felt numb with it. Perfect. Weiss angled her face, let the water stream onto her face unrelentlessly. The feeling was overpowering only up to a point, where it just became nothing at all. She was clean, her eyes were closed, and all she felt was good.

After an eternity, it was enough. Dripping, Weiss trod back to her room, leaving a trail of watery footprints. She fretted about the mess for only a second. They’d be gone in the morning. And, she thought dryly, so would she.

Even with eyelids fluttering, heavy with exhaustion, Weiss forced herself to finish packing. Still, she couldn’t muster up the energy to care about wrinkles, stuffing the suitcases to capacity. That would annoy her father, certainly. A small comfort, but tonight Weiss was all about taking what she could get. 

Finally the nonsense was good and done with, except for her steadily progressing nausea. Reasonably, she should go back to squatting pathetically by the toilet. But Weiss was in a far from reasonable state of mind. 

It was easier, as always, to go to bed. She hit the mattress with a satisfying thud, and a less satisfying reminder of the night’s events. It was supremely unfair that her bed smelled like him. She could move to the guest bedroom. Make it easier to forget it ever happened. Her wet hair was even beginning to seep into the sheets, the pillow case. But she stayed, choosing again by not acting at all.  
Weiss shut her eyes, inhaled deeply. She could almost pretend someone was there with her, falling asleep with her. Caring about how she got through the night. Telling her, go to sleep. Things will be okay in the morning.

Weiss told herself to go to sleep. 

A drop of water slid down her neck, her back. She breathed deep. 

Weiss didn’t move again until she had to. 

 

***

 

Weiss had sort of thought someone would have come for her by now.

There was this dream she kept having, starting from her first night back in Atlas. She was deep underwater, the sun only just peeking at her through the undersides of the waves. It was just that at first, floating. Water. Light. Then, the noise. Muffled laughter, then shouts. The yelling turned harsh, strained. Like someone was trying to tell her something. No- they were looking for her! It had been her name, all along. 

Weiss! Weiss! Weiss!

Weiss opened her mouth to scream, but nothing ever came out. 

Just when she realized she was taking in water, she was going to drown, she was going to die here and no one would know- she was plucked from the water by the oversized talons of a Nevermore. This was never as scary as it should be, logically. Probably some part of her subconscious remembered that this was the good part of the dream. Her friends- her teammates- had climbed onto the back of a Nevermore to search for her. 

Relief would wash over her at this point, briefly. But they never even noticed that the Grimm had picked her up, and the talons that held her were getting tighter by the second. They still called her name, as they had when she was in the water, over and over again. 

Weiss kept trying to yell to them, but no sound came out. She was right there! Right there, if they would only look down! Why did they never think to look down?

Eventually, the yelling stopped. They were giving up on her. Too bad, they’d say. I guess she’s gone. A shrug. We didn’t really like her much, anyway…

Desperately, finally, Weiss would finally muster up a scream. But something was strange about the noise. She could see them- Ruby, Yang, Blake- covering their ears and writhing in pain. Weiss could see her yelling was hurting them, but suddenly, she couldn’t stop. It could hurt the Grimm, too, incredibly, impossibly. The Nevermore shrieked a death knell, dropping, sinking fast through the air, plunging all of them into the deep, dark plane of ocean. 

The next part was the worst. She’d wake up, back in her bedroom, alone again. But when she stepped out of bed, there they were. Ruby, Yang, Blake. Ghostly and empty-eyed, shimmering a translucent white-blue. Like she had summoned them. Because she had. Weiss had killed them all. 

You did this, Weiss, said Ruby, in her squeaky little voice.

I thought we were a team, said Yang, her distatched arm hovering, pointing at Weiss accusingly.

You’d be surprised, said Blake, nonchalant, sitting beside Weiss on her bed, the things people are capable of.

I didn’t do this! Weiss would cry, I’m couldn’t!

Of course you could! Ruby said, smiling, You already did.

After all that, waking up could never feel like much of a relief. Weiss was getting into the habit of summoning right after she woke up. Same old knight. It was just a dream. Just a dream. She could barely even manage one arm, anyway. No way would she be able to sustain three people. Or kill her teammates, of course.

The dream wasn’t always the same. There had been one particularly disturbing variant where Weiss never left the water at all. The talons pierced through her, and through the reddening sea, she watched as her friends flew away. 

And it wasn’t always just her teammates. Sometimes Winter was there, or Penny. Often, it was Pyrrha or Jaune or all of Team JNPR. Once, it had been just eight of Pyrrha. Eight ghostly Pyrrha’s in her bedroom, asking Weiss calmly why she had let her die.

All in all, not some of her best nights of sleep.

Which was especially punishing, now that her father had her working positively ludicrous hours. 

“He’s doing this on purpose!” she had moaned to her sister, during the few days Winter had spent at home on furlough.

“Well, obviously,” Winter answered her distractedly, flipping through papers intently.

“But what did I— ”

“You mean, what did you do other than ignoring his calls for months?” she asked, looking up at Weiss from her work with a raised eyebrow. “I thought we had covered this.”

Weiss pouted. “I hardly think that would be enough to sentence his own daughter to a lifetime of, of— indentured servitude!”

“Spare me the dramatics, will you, Weiss?” her sister said, without looking up from her work.

Weiss drew her knees to her chest reflexively. She was quiet.

“Look,” Winter said, putting down her pen deliberately, resting her chin on her hands, “You know I wish you could have stayed at Beacon.”

Winter was attempting pointedly to look her in the eyes, but Weiss, resting her head on her knees, looked vaguely into the distance.

“I really do, Weiss. And I wish Father would have let you apply to the academy.”

Weiss frowned, considering this, “I’m still not interested in studying in Atlas. I already have a team. But,” she conceded, “on principle, I would have liked the option. I don’t understand the logic at all. He was fine with combat school before!”

Winter smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“If I had to guess? That’s probably my fault.” Winter leaned far back in her chair, resting her feet on her desk, “I was supposed to make nice with his allies at the academy, not join up with them. Sure, he might’ve preferred Atlas to Beacon, but now that Beacon is out of the picture?” Winter shook her head grimly, “He knows he has you. He won’t let go. Not even to the academy. Father won’t be so quick to let a second heiress slip through his fingers.”

“I… I thought Ironwood and Father worked together?” Weiss asked tentatively, before she could even process the rest of what her sister had said.

Winter snorted. “General Ironwood to you, sister. And let’s just say... there are allies, and there is family. Unless you’re seeking a union, the two aren’t exactly supposed to intersect. And Father isn’t much for partnership.”

Weiss’ eyes went wide, but she didn’t dare pry further. 

“So, that’s it then? I just stay here in Atlas for the rest of time? I could be helping people.”

“Hmph! The young can be so short-minded.” said Winter, tutting, “I’m not telling you stay. I’m letting you how Father’s mind is working. Let him think you’re being the good little girl. He’ll only loosen his grip if he thinks he’s won.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Weiss said, sitting up a little straighter.

“See that you do,” her sister said, smiling, “Now. Ice cream?”

“It’s too cold for ice cream.” Weiss said, rolling her eyes at the childish tradition.

“No, it isn’t.” Winter said cheerily, or as cheery as she ever was, as she left the room.

“No,” Weiss said quietly, smiling as she followed her sister out the door, “It isn’t.”

***

While Winter was there, things weren’t good, per se, but they were okay. After she left, nothing much changed in Weiss’ schedule— she was still working longer than any other receptionist her father employed, still barely fitting in time to train, without her weapon, at her father’s insistence, which of course she was only too happy to oblige —but it all felt worse.

She could’ve just locked herself in her room and pitched a fit. But Winter’s way seemed more dignified. Besides, Weiss’ perfectionism kicked in inherently. If she was to be a mindless office drone for the time being, she would just have to be the greatest mindless office drone there was. 

Which is why Weiss didn’t look up from her filing, even though the voice that interrupted her was vaguely familiar.

“Uh… hey.”

Weiss held back a sigh, not even entirely sure how someone could’ve ended up in the shoebox of an office space her father had her cloistered in. She had at least an hour’s worth of old files to transfer before she could break for the day. 

“What do you want? I mean,” she took a breath, started over, “Sorry, how can I help you?” The urge to snap hadn’t exactly been conditioned out of her yet. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to walk some imbecile through the very simple layout of the the building again.

“Weiss?”

Her head snapped up. Weiss only just resisted the impulse to do a cartoonish double-take when she saw the lanky, blonde idiot who was in her doorway. 

“Jaune?” she asked stupidly, as if his appearance was another trick her psyche was playing on her, “Why are you here? Also, how? No, actually, go back to why.”

Jaune smiled, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. 

“Maybe you hadn’t heard,” he said, still smiling, infuriatingly, “But communications are down. Like, all of them.”

Weiss ground her teeth so hard she thought her molars would shatter.

“Yes, thank you, I’d worked that one out for myself.” she said, standing up from her desk to walk over to him. Weiss crossed her arms, looked him directly in the eyes. He had height on her, but not willpower.

“Well,” he started, growing increasingly nervous- and rightfully so. “That necessitated this be a face-to-face conversation.”

“Enlighten me, Jaune,” she asked, in what she hoped was a measured tone, “What conversation?”

“Ruby woke up. Nothing’s wrong with her— she just doesn’t remember what happened, you know, towards the end.”

A wave of relief passed over Weiss so visceral it left her with goosebumps, swallowing back a sob. Her stomach was in her heart and her heart was beating loud in her ears. She was okay. Ruby was okay.

Without thinking, Weiss hit Jaune in the chest. “You could have led with that, you insufferable— ”

Jaune swallowed her up in a bear hug. She stiffened, at first. But another wave crashed over her, and Weiss was dragged under. Safe. Safe. Finally someone she cared about was safe. And so was she, at least right now. It could have been worse. It was still all so, so horrible, but there was this. Ruby was okay.

Weiss allowed herself a solid minute of muffled sobbing before reality reasserted itself. 

“Uh, Weiss?” Jaune asked tightly, as she began to pull away, “By the way, I, uh, wanted to say I was sorry.”

Weiss retreated, sat primly on the top her desk. She attempted to wipe her face with some degree of decorum. Weiss could admit she was fighting a losing battle on that front.

“For what?” she said, just to be difficult, already bristling for what was to come. DId they really have to do this? Was this entirely necessary?

“You know,” he responded raspily, unable to meet her gaze.

“Do I?” Weiss asked, with put upon surprise, “You didn't exactly stick around to find out. Maybe I blacked out. Maybe I have literally no idea what you’re talking about right now.”

Jaune swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Did you actually black out?”

There was an unwarranted softness in his voice. As if the asking the question meant anything at all.

“Do you actually care?” she replied, snottily. 

“Weiss...” he trailed off, as inexplicably exasperated with her as always. 

Niceness wasn’t worth much if it was so quickly undermined. Easy to be nice to a cowed little victim. Show him any teeth and he slunk away, licking at invisible wounds.

“No and no.” 

Jaune heaved a visible sigh of relief. 

“I shouldn’t have left,” he said, after a moment had passed. Guilt was such a hot button for him. It annoyed her.

Weiss inspected a nail. Pushed back a cuticle. “Oh?” she asked, coolly.

“Well,” Jaune began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “not like that, at least.”

The initial appeal of making him grovel had officially worn out. “It’s fine, really, Jaune,” Weiss said, finally, “I'm a big girl.” 

Maybe making Jaune grovel was just too easy to be satisfying. Or maybe that niggling feeling in the back of her head was right. Sure, he hadn’t been exactly chivalrous. But it hadn’t been the best of situations to begin with. Things weren’t exactly great even now, but before? Before the pain had been overpowering. At least, it had been for her. Now that she had given him a little bit of shit, she felt better about the whole thing. It was time to chalk that incident up to byproduct of the grieving process.

So little time had passed. Weiss thought about her relief at Ruby’s well-being. Jaune and his team would never get that. And Jaune had just been beginning to deal with that. She hadn’t know the right way to help him. All they knew was that it hurt too much to be alone. That could never have ended well.

Especially if what her suspicions were right. Pyrrha had obviously been interested in Jaune, not that he ever seemed to notice. But maybe he had. They were close enough that her death would have torn him apart, no matter what. Weiss wasn’t even such good friends with Pyrrha and she still sometimes felt cleaved in two. If it could happen to her…

It could’ve just been that. Grief, existential shock. But Weiss couldn’t help thinking there was something she was missing. Something behind the bitterness in Jaune’s voice, the urgency of his advances. Like he was grasping at something just out of reach.

Maybe not.

Weiss was surprised at herself. How little she wanted to think about that. But in any case, she didn’t feel taken advantage of. Which is what she had a feeling Jaune thought he was apologizing for. She’d felt a little tossed to the side, perhaps, but he was allowed to change his mind.

When it came down to it, Weiss couldn’t make him want her. 

And she couldn’t tell herself that this… whatever it was, between them, was more important than anything that was going on. Or more important than what had happened before.

“Are…”Jaune knit his brow, seemed to be choosing his words carefully, “Are you actually, really fine though? Like, are we fine?”

“‘We’ aren’t anything,” Weiss said, with exaggerated air quotes, “That much is clear. Which, yes, I am perfectly fine with.” 

Before he could answer, she went on, clearing her throat delicately, “Now. Will you please tell me the rest of... whatever it is you came here to tell me?”

Jaune didn’t seem particularly satisfied by that response. Too bad. Weiss was newly resigned not to making a big deal out of her hurt feelings. There were infinitely more important things.

He took a breath.

“Well, I decided I should go see Ruby and Yang. Patch really isn’t that far out of the way, and, honestly, the room I was splitting with Ren and Nora was getting a little... crowded. Ruby was already up and about by the time I got there— I’m telling you, it’s like nothing happened to her at all.”

Weiss chewed her lower lip. “And… and Yang?”

Jaune’s pained expression told her all she really needed to know.

“Physically, I think she’s as good as she could be, considering. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind laying in bed for the next few months, so I can’t really blame her. But I thought, maybe now that she knew Ruby was okay… ”

“If Ruby really was as normal as you said she was,” Weiss started cautiously, “that had to have messed with Yang’s head.”

Jaune nodded. “Like, why can’t I shake it off the way she did?”

“Not quite,” she said, frowning, “Yang’s always said she was in it for the adventure of it all. She worried that was unsustainable, and I guess in a way, she was right… ”

Weiss paused, realizing she had been pulling hard enough at a cuticle to draw blood. Putting her hands down, she continued.

“I’d be willing to bet she understands why Ruby can get right back into it. Yang just doesn’t tick the same way. And she’s probably beating herself up about it, just because she has less of a hero complex.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Jaune said, with some surprise, “to want to help people.”

Weiss gripped the edge of the desk, thought about everything she wasn’t doing. No. It wasn’t like that. She had a plan. She had time. 

“There’s a difference between helping people and making yourself a martyr.”

Jaune looked at her incredulously. “There is?”

Well, that explained a lot.

“Just… just tell me why you came, Jaune,” she sighed.

“Well, because of her alleged ‘hero complex’” Jaune said, copying her earlier use of air quotes, “Ruby’s already come up with a plan. Her uncle let slip something about Haven, and she wants to go and investigate.”

Weiss held back an eyeroll at Jaune’s enthusiasm over what was clearly a tenuous lead, at best.

“And why is that you’re knocking on my door, and not Ruby?” Weiss asked, hoping she came across as disinterested. It was hard to be aloof when she felt so utterly left behind. So, Ruby had told all of this to Jaune? She had to hear all about what was clearly going to end up a wild-goose chase from Jaune?

Weiss knew she could have done better the day that Beacon fell. Faster. More lethal. She should have been perfect.

Did Ruby trust her so little? Or had she just written her off entirely? How did they all see her- as a little, rich girl gone crawling back to her natural habitat?

Is that what she was?

Jaune interrupted her train of thought by speaking, suddenly: “Ruby is— ” he faltered. “You obviously know she’s a good leader and all but… she can be such a little kid.”

Weiss nodded. Finally. Yang and Blake had been so obtuse about that. As if she hadn’t been stating the obvious.

“I mean, like, we aren’t exactly adults or anything, but there’s still a difference. She doesn’t… your dad locks you up, Ruby figures it’s just out of our hands! And it’s like, bullshit! Why should we have to follow the rules? Rules people made up just to make it easier to control everyone?” his voice was strained, if not exactly a yell. Weiss knew he wasn’t angry at her, but felt herself leaning away, crossing her arms around herself protectively.

“In the real world,” said Jaune, grappling for calmness, “you do what you have to do to help people. That’s…” He ran a shaking hand through his hair. “...that’s all there is.”  
Weiss gnawed at the inside of her cheek.

“So, I might have told her I was going back to Vale to wait for Ren and Nora to be released from the hospital. Which might’ve been… a bit of a white lie.” he finished lamely, smiling at her appeasingly.

It frightened her a little, this well of anger that Jaune didn’t even seem to notice was in him. As soon as it had begun, he was back to self-effacing, bumbling Jaune. It wasn’t that Weiss was threatened by him. But that utter lack of control could only get worse. And it was, at the very least, not astoundingly pleasant to be around. 

But Weiss didn’t say anything like that. His stupid, stupid smile was reminding her her how easy it could be. And, well, maybe they had a little time before the next time everything fell apart.

“Jaune Arc.” she said chiding him with a little smile, crossing her legs, “You are such the little liar.”

“We need you, Weiss.” asked Jaune, licking his lips. She wondered idly if he realized it.

“You need me.” Weiss asked, raising her eyebrows. She was testing him, of course. Maybe it had just been timing, after all. Just how far could she push her luck?

“Come with me,” he said quietly, stepping too close to her for plausible deniability, “Come with us.”

“Which is it?” she said, with mock innocence, jabbing him square in the chest. Easy. It hadn’t been a fluke. It really was going to be this easy.

Jaune fussed with his collar, gripped at his arm. He was actively trying not to look at her, which was hilarious. And, Weiss couldn’t help but notice, that grip of his was fairly impressive. She eyed him, hungrily and unrestrained. Best to spell it out for him.

“C’mon, Weiss,” he said, whining just a little, which was just fine in her book. 

“I’m just going to have to be convinced.” Weiss said, tossing her hair.

Jaune leaned down on the desk, his hands on either side of her thighs. He was closing the distance between them just quickly enough. Good, very good.

“You’re really gonna make me sa— ”

“Now, Jaune,” Weiss said, in a low voice so he’d have to come closer, “I wouldn’t dream of making you do anything you didn’t already want to.”

He looked at her greedily now, without pretense. Jaune grinned.

“You have no idea what you make me want.”

And this time, when he kissed her, he cupped her face in his hands. He looked her in the eye. He said her name. It was good enough before, pretending with someone that they weren’t alone. But this was better. This was ridiculously, unsustainably better.

Weiss decided to enjoy it while it lasted.


	3. Remains

This was not exactly how Jaune foresaw this day going. But, he thought, as Weiss’s legs snaked around him, he didn’t exactly mind.

He had been so disgusted with himself, the last time. By any account, this couldn’t be a very good idea. Back then, he could at least chalk up his poor choices to fresh grief and alcohol. How exactly was he supposed to justify this?

She licked around the shell of his ear.

Well.

Fuck.

Jaune had never been very good at risk assesment.

It was simple, to lose himself in this. Ridiculously so. Jaune had always thought he’d be too nervous, too bad at it, too afraid of being bad at it. In reality, it was all preternaturally straight-forward. He could just slip into this state, and this weird, primal thing took over completely. He knew what to do, sort of. He knew what he wanted, for sure. Which didn’t freak him out too much, or anything. Surrendering control was all well and good when he was completely miserable, but now that he was even marginally okay… well, it was different. 

He didn’t want to lose himself in Weiss. That wasn’t fair. To either of them. But he still wanted to be with her like this, despite his better judgement.

Maybe it could be different this time. If he wanted it and she wanted it, shouldn’t it all work out? Why couldn’t they have this, after everything? Why shouldn’t they?  
Jaune looked at her, cupped her face in his hand. Blue eyes. Brighter than his. Her eyelashes were white, just like her hair. How had he never noticed? Jaune ran a thumb over her cheekbone and Weiss shuddered, drew away.

“Sorry!” he said instantaneously, jutting his hand away. “What did I do?”

“Nothing, it’s…” Weiss was making a strangely pained expression he couldn’t quite place. “it’s just my scar. I was surprised, is all.”

“Oh!” Jaune’s face was flushed. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d never even know the Weiss without a scar. “Does it hurt? I’m sorry.”

“Not anymore.” 

Jaune wasn’t sure quite what to do. He settled on kissing her forehead. Then, the tip her nose, her lips, the raised scar tissue of her cheekbone.

“Was— was that okay?”

“Yes,” she said, ducking into the crook of his neck. Jaune saw she was smiling. Weiss’ voice came quietly, muffled by the sound of her mouth against him. “No more talking.” 

He might’ve opened his mouth to protest this, but his words caught in his throat, as Weiss worked her icy fingers under the hem of his shirt.

“W-weiss?” he asked, as she first peeled off his sweatshirt, then the shirt underneath. “Is this another veiled criticism of my clothing choices?”

“I resent the implication that I would ever veil my criticisms.” Weiss said with a smirk, raking her nails over his chest. 

“What,” Jaune asked, trying to steel himself from shivering at her touch, “marking your territory now?”

Weiss shot him a glance. “Hardly.”

“Then what?” he said between kisses, working open the buttons of her jacket.  
“Mmmm.” Weiss came up for air, but didn’t pull away. Their foreheads touched. “Maybe I’m just making sure you’re real.” 

Something hot and heady and overpowering thrummed through his veins at her words. Overcome, Jaune picked her up off the desk with one arm, covering his mouth with hers when she shrieked.

“Try to restrain yourself if you can, Miss Schnee. This is a work environment.”

Weiss grappled onto him ridiculously, hands around his neck, legs around his waist. She was scowling at him petulantly.

“I— I’ll restrain you,” Weiss said, hushed, sputtering, “you lumbering, moronic— ”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Jaune said, laughing, laying her down as gently as he could manage with her nails digging into the meat of his shoulder. 

Jaune was dumbstruck by the image of Weiss underneath him. He motioned to take over where he left off, removing her jacket, but found himself completely unable to move. Like he’d break her. Like he’d ruin it.

With a sly little grin, Weiss sat up, pushed him down forcefully, taking advantage of his momentary reverie. She was too distracting by half to give him any chance of gaining the upper hand. Weiss shrugged off the jacket. Started undressing herself, button by button, tortuously slow.

“You’re stealing my move,” Jaune said weakly, hoping it came out more joking than desperate. An unfamiliar urgency came over him, increasing tenfold with each button that popped open. His mouth went dry and his brain went blank.

“Then move faster.”

Jaune decided to stop thinking altogether.

 

***

 

“Um, ow. No teeth.”

“Not even a little teeth?” 

“...less teeth.”

 

“This is— ”

“What did we say about talking?”

“I didn't say— ”

“We meaning me.”

“How does that even make— ”

“I retain the right to use the royal we.”

“If I call you ‘your majesty’ do I get to finish a sentence?”

“I'll allow it on a probationary basis.”

“This is good, right?”

“I seem to recall being promised a ‘your majesty’.”

“Weiss. I said, is this good?”

“That's not even what you— oh!”

“Tell me.”

“Satis— oh, fuck. S-satisfactory.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Gladly.”

 

“Is this actually happening?”

“I think so. I hope so.”

“Okay. Good. Good.”

 

“Your hair’s all messed up.”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Ha. Let me fix it, then.”

“You’re just going to make knots.”

“Seven older sisters.”

“Hm. Point taken.”

“I’m gonna do a braid.”

“Sure, sure. Braid away.”

 

“Jaune... was I asleep?”

“For like, ten minutes.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh. That’s okay. It’s late.”

“Nope. It’s early.”

“That too. Go back to sleep, Weiss.”

 

***

 

For a moment, when Weiss was more asleep than awake, she hadn’t remember what had happened or where she was or even who’s arm it was, curled protectively around her. But strangely, she hadn’t really minded. Just another dream. But a good one, this time.   
It was Jaune. Jaune, who was still asleep. The sunlight beaming through the shutters had been enough to drag Weiss into consciousness, but he didn’t seem to have suffered the same fate.

Even as she regained her senses, nothing made sense. Apparently, they had fallen asleep right there on the floor. Nestled between her filing cabinet and her desk. Unbelievable. For once, Weiss thankful for such an out-of-the-way office. 

As unfathomable as her night had been, her day was looking even stranger.  
Should she get up? Go back to her father’s house? There was the matter of the AK-200s who were programmed to follow her from the Corporate Headquarters back to the Schnee Manor. They weren’t complex enough to report to her father that she had never returned home. Well, she assumed. Weiss felt confident she could lie her way out of it, should her father find out somehow.

But then there was Jaune. Weiss couldn’t just leave him on the floor of her office. There was the option of waking him, but she hated to do it. Weiss sighed. A little too loudly, as Jaune started stirring slightly, tightening his grip on her waist. It would be best if she could just fall back asleep, she thought, closing her eyes, trying to lose herself in it. He was warm and his arms were ridiculously strong. She tried to make it last. But to no avail: Weiss had never felt so horrifically awake in her life.

She toyed with the idea of finishing the filing Jaune had distracted her from in the first place. But even the promise of productivity wasn’t enough to sway her. Weiss stayed there on the floor in his arms, stiff-backed and much too awake. (Admittedly, it was still pretty good.)

After a while, Jaune shifted. Weiss remained motionless, pretended she was still asleep. She wanted to be the girl was sleeping prettily, not the girl frozen with anxiety and fussing about office work. Which was an utterly ridiculous thought to be having at all. What if he just got up and left with her lying there? Not that she exactly had a problem with that, but— 

Jaune kissed her bare shoulder.

“Hey, you.”

Huh.

Was that how it was done? 

Weiss yawned showily, feeling idiotic as she did so. As if he would think to accuse her of pretending to be asleep.

“Morning,” she said, turning to face him. Where did they go from here? 

“We should go, right?”

“We?” she asked blearily, only able to focus on the patterns Jaune was tracing on her skin.

“Is there something you need from your house, or what?” Jaune asked, and her stomach dropped.

Here it goes.

“What are you talking about?” Weiss knew now, of course, what he meant. Perhaps feigning misunderstanding would be enough for him to get the hint.

“Haven!” he said, standing up energetically. “Well, Vale first, to get Ren and Nora. And Patch, to meet up with Ruby. But then, Haven.”

Weiss was a complete and utter idiot. He’d had clear expectations, and she ignored them. Why? 

What was it, exactly, that made her act this way? 

Was it really just because it was easy? To see what she wanted and take it, no questions asked, no thought given? 

Spoiled brat.

Needy.

Desperate.

Why did she want so badly for someone, anyone to need her? 

Weiss pushed it all aside. Mistakes had been made. But she could still mitigate the damage. Jaune would be okay. She’d misled him, but he’d get over it. She could smooth this over.

She stood, collecting the clothes so carelessly shunted off the night before.

“I can’t go with you to Haven, Jaune,” Weiss said, exhaling deeply. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wait, what?” Jaune was still smiling. It was only a matter of time. “That’s not— you said you were going to come with me!”

“I said no such thing.” Weiss could hear how icy and patrician she sounded, but somehow couldn’t help it. The more nervous she was, the more haughty she came across. 

“Wait, what? You’re being serious? Come the fuck on, Weiss!”

The smile was gone. He was yelling again.

Her eyes flicked to the door. It was much too early for any of the other employees to be there, but the recklessness of their encounter was hitting her hard. They shouldn’t have been able to get away with that. It had been untouchable, timeless, apart from it all. Or so Weiss had let herself pretend. Instant gratification was for children and simpletons, and she was neither. 

“Language, Mr. Arc.” Weiss drawled sardonically, hoping to soften things the way they usually did.

But Jaune was not having it, not this time. “Don’t. Do not.”

Weiss changed tactics, tried injecting some authority into her voice. “What were you planning to do? Wave your sword around at my father’s battalion of Paladins?”

His eyebrows shot up. “He’s guarding you? With Paladins?”

“Of course,” Weiss said bitterly, though it was only the Knights that watched over her directly. Her father did own Paladins, in fairness. She began combing out her braid with jittering fingers, needing to conceal her anxiety in some way. “Father guards all his possessions.”

Jaune shook his head, his too-long hair shaking wildly. 

“Why didn’t you— I don’t get it. Why did you say you’d come with me?”

“When did I— ”

“Oh, convince me, Jaune, you need me, Jaune,” he spat. “You must really think I’m an idiot.”

“I think you’re being an idiot right now, yes,” Weiss said, through gritted teeth.

“What did this mean to you?” Jaune asked, seeking eye contact desperately. He motioned to touch her shoulder. She shrugged it away.

Breathe. Weiss had to remember to— he was so angry with her. She didn’t blame him. Veins began pulsing in the back of her head. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t— What had it meant to her? Why? Weiss dug her nails into her palms, trying to keep her racing thoughts at bay. How did she think this could be simple? How could she think someone understood what she wanted? 

Jaune couldn’t tell how she felt because she wasn’t willing to show him. To show anyone. She had was no one to blame but herself. All her fault.

“Was it supposed to mean something?” she said coldly, because it was the only thing she could think to say. It was just second nature; when Weiss saw an opening, she struck. 

Jaune gaped, looking at her like she’d slapped him. Shook his head again, as though through sheer force he could change her words.

“You let me think you were going to come with me. You did.”

“Learn to recognize flirty banter, Jaune,” she said dryly, “It’ll serve you well.”

“That wasn’t flirty banter!” He was shouting at her, and all she could think at first was how very much wanted to crawl up somewhere far away and stay there forever.  
But Weiss just raised an eyebrow. Jaune could pretend he’d had no part in how the night progressed, but she didn’t have to humor it. He couldn’t intimidate her like that. She would not allow it.

“We were having a conversation,” he protested lamely.

“Yeah,” Weiss said, shrugging, “and then we weren’t. I don’t even have my weapon. It’s locked up. I couldn’t go even if I wanted to.”

“If you wanted— I don’t understand. What was the point of this, then?” Jaune swallowed, but it didn’t hide the strain in his voice. “If you never wanted to be with me?”

“Be with you?” Weiss just barely choked out, truly blindsided. “What are you even talking about?”

“I could get you out of here, if you’d just let me!” Jaune said suddenly, flushing, practically growling. “You could get a new weapon! It was going to be okay! We were going to fix everything!”

“What, in Haven?” she asked, incredulously, “Are you joking? That’s a wild goose chase if I’ve heard one.”

“Ruby’s uncle— ” he began, slowly, as if speaking to a child.

“Yes, Jaune, I’m not simple.” Weiss snapped, “That incompetent lush ‘let something slip’ and you want everyone to put their lives on hold to investigate. I follow. What I’m having difficulty grasping is what you think that’s going to solve.”

“We have to start somewhere!”

“Yes! Sure! But we don’t have to start there! You think slaying Grimm is hard? You’re dealing with a conspiracy that high-ranking government officials can barely wrap their heads around. And you think the key to all that is just going to be waiting for you, gift-wrapped in Haven?” Her voice was shaking now. This had started as an apology, hadn’t it? He was so utterly dense. Weiss couldn’t help it, this anger that was coming to a boil.

“What do you suggest we do, since you’re so smart?” Jaune sniped, barbed with sarcasm. But something in his expression told her he really wanted to know. Like it could be so simple. A slight change of plans. Weiss held back a sigh. Jaune was forever looking for the easy way out. Something quick and bold, fit for heroic retellings. She wasn’t going to be able to tell him what he wanted to hear. And he’d resent her for it.

“Best case scenario,” Weiss started calmly, “you find out one piece of usable information.” Jaune opened his mouth to speak, but Weiss raised a finger. “Or you could discover nothing at all. If I were to come with you, in that case, I would have severed ties with my father for no reason. That isn’t a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Severed ties?!” Jaune shouted. So much for her calm delivery. “Weiss, he practically kidnapped you!”

Weiss was growing truly impatient. Time to go for the jugular. End this quickly.

“Just because you have no respect for your family doesn’t mean I have none for mine!” 

“Where do you get— whatever.” Jaune sighed, “Don’t try to turn this around on me.”

Weiss knew she was being unfair. But Jaune was so unwilling to listen to her, and far too willing to stumble blindly into a fight. It was infuriating. If Jaune wanted a fight, she would win it. Whether she believed in what she was saying or not.

“Since when are you so interested in respect?” he said, suddenly. “Were you even speaking to your father before he came and got you?”

Weiss flushed. She wasn’t expecting that. “It isn’t any of your business!”

“I don’t care if it’s my business or not!” said Jaune, through clenched teeth. “What happened to you here? You acted like you were being dragged off against your will and now, what, you just got used to it? You remembered how nice it is to live in a palace, is that it?”

“Does this look like a palace to you?” Weiss asked, gesturing to their bleak institutional surroundings. “I’m working here, Jaune. Maybe you’re just confused, since you’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life.”

Jaune scoffed. “You should talk, heiress.”

“Yes! I’m an heiress!” she said, hysterically. What, did he really think he was touching a nerve? By naming the only part of her identity that was public record?

“Which means,” Weiss went on, slowly, “I have influence here, if I play my cards right. I have a plan. I can’t just go off and— you talk such a big game about helping people, but what have you actually done? There’s a reason they test applicants for combat school, you know. What makes you think you’d do more harm than good? You’re a liability.”

Again, Weiss made the easy jabs. She started off well intentioned, but why should she try? Jaune wasn’t going to listen to her. He was never going to care what she thought. Why shouldn’t she make him hurt like she hurt?

Because it isn’t his fault you’re hurting. Because you know he’s well-intentioned.

No.

Intentions weren’t enough.

“Why are you acting like this?” Jaune pleaded, not knowing she was asking herself the very same thing. “What’s the game plan here, try to hurt my feelings so I forget that I actually care about what happens to you?”

“This may come as a shock, Jaune, but not everything I say and do is about you!” Weiss was yelling now.

“How was having sex with me not about me?” Jaune demanded, defensive, embarrassed.

“Is that an actual question?” Weiss could almost laugh. “Like, am I meant to explain that to you?”

“I don’t get why you’re attacking me! Suddenly I’m such a bad guy for wanting to help you?”

How horrible, not to be the hero for once. 

“I never asked for your help!” As if she should have to point this out. Like she was just a player in the story of Jaune. A defective damsel who wouldn’t just shut up, roll over, and let herself be saved.

“You need my help!” Jaune snapped, smacking the wall. “I don’t get why you’re doing this! Everything would be okay if we just left and went to Haven together.”

“Why I’m doing what, exactly?” Weiss asked, unable to stop herself from wheedling him further. “As if you were ever such an expert on me? What do you even know about me?”

“I don’t know!” Jaune threw up his hands, exasperated, incredulous. “How am I even supposed to answer that?”

“You’re the one who has grand ideas about us riding off into the sunset, apparently! And you can’t even say what you know about me?” Her voice was raw. It hurt. It hurt and it shouldn’t, because it was her own doing. Weiss hated that she expected an answer from him. Weiss hated him for not knowing she was giving him an opening. Weiss hated him for not being able to pass her tests, hated herself for having to test him at all.

“You said that, not me!” Jaune shouted, bringing her back to reality.

“I didn’t hear you denying it.” Deny it. Why wouldn’t he just deny it?

“What am I supposed to-” Say you know me. Say you want to know me, at least.

“I’m proving a point!” Weiss said, swallowing hard. She would not cry. He wasn’t worth it. “You think you’re in love with me or something all of a sudden? How does that make sense? How am I supposed to stake everything on that?”

“I am not in love with you.” Jaune said caustically. As if he was offended by the very idea.

“Yes! That’s what I’m saying! So why should I go with you? Maybe you’d feel better if you had someone to swoop in and save, but I don’t need it. I appreciate you telling me about Ruby, and letting me know what your plans are, but I can’t be a part of that right now.” Weiss was not going to cry.

“What about Beacon? What about your team?” 

Weiss wondered idly if he’d still be satisfied with himself if she gave into this guilt-trip. He was so transparent.

“You, Ren, Nora, and Ruby? That’s not my team.” Weiss said disparagingly. “And what Yang? You didn’t pass judgement on her for staying out of this!”

“Yang was injured!” Jaune protested.

“You know that isn’t what’s holding her back! You said as much yourself! And Blake! Blake is gone too, if you hadn’t noticed. It isn’t my team that’s getting put back together. It’s yours.”

“Ruby isn’t— ”

“I seem to recall you were missing a member.” Weiss said coolly, trying not to look at him. Feeling like there were nails gouging at the inside of her head. She said it anyway.

Jaune looked at her with more sadness than she had expected, somehow.

“Don’t even go there, Weiss.”

“What, is Ruby supposed to be the half of Pyrrha that’s the real leader, and I’m the half that’s your girlfriend?” It felt true to say and horrible to hear and still so satisfying that she could not stop.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

She couldn’t look at him.

“Don’t I? Am I really so off-base?” Her heart was in her throat. Stop. Stop. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone? 

“I cannot believe you’re doing this.” he said quietly, bitterly.

“I thought we had covered that.” Weiss was shaking. “The part where you don’t know anything about me.” 

“I’m not trying to replace her.” Jaune said it like he was trying to convince himself. “I would never do that.”

“What, you won’t even say her name now?” Weiss snapped. Unbelievable.

“You’re the one who shouldn’t be saying her name!” Jaune said, blowing up at last. Just what she wanted. It would be over soon. “You’re not half the person she was!”

It hurt more than she thought it would.

Weiss didn’t flinch. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction.

“Who’s trying to hurt who’s feelings now?” she said lightly, snark doing a poor job of covering the hurt in her voice.

“You started it.” Jaune said, sulkily. Such a child. 

“I get it,” Weiss said with a dismissive shrug, “You were in love her.”

Jaune’s jaw clenched. Her bluff had paid off.

“You— ” Jaune was a different kind of angry now. Controlled. Unsettling. “You don’t get jackshit. You have no idea what it’s like. She’s gone. She kissed me once. And then she was dead.”

The air was knocked out of her lungs.

So that’s what had happened. 

It didn’t make her feel any better, knowing. She just felt gut-punched. Which only made her feel selfish and sick, like she was making Pyrrha’s death all about her. It wasn’t fair of her to feel like this.

Weiss couldn’t help it. Three days after Pyrrha died, they were together. Together being a generous word. How could she have thought… 

Just a warm body.

Of course that’s what she was to him. But how could she blame him, really? Wasn’t that what Jaune was to her?

No.

At least Weiss wasn’t pretending he was a ghost. Even if he could be anyone, which she wasn’t even sure was true… at least she wasn’t closing her eyes, picturing someone else.

Weiss had thought it had been different last night. It had felt like he saw her.

She was a replacement. She was nothing to him. He had just gotten better at hiding it.

“Maybe I don’t,” Weiss admitted shakily, “But this isn’t going to bring her back.”

Meaning, I am not your dead girlfriend. Meaning, I refuse to make decisions just to accommodate your guilt.

Jaune stared at her blankly. As if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Weiss saw right through him. And he didn’t see her at all. 

It wasn’t his fault, but she hated him for it, all the same.

“We can’t bring anyone back,” he started, cautiously, “But we have to keep going. We can do something… new.”

“Can we?” Weiss asked, voice breaking hysterically. She laughed. “Maybe we could! Maybe I would, even, if I thought for one second that you actually wanted to.”

Jaune’s fists were clenched, white knuckle. 

“Answer me one question then, Weiss. Since you obviously think you can read my mind.”

Weiss just looked at him, stricken. Was she just as oblivious as he was? What was it she wasn’t seeing?

No, no. She was right. She had to be.

“How the fuck did you think this was going to go?”

The same question she’d been asking herself, of course. The only answer came to her, simply.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it. At all.”

It was his turn to laugh cruelly. “And I’m the selfish one.”

“You don’t have some kind of monopoly on selfishness, Jaune.” Weiss snapped, with an anger she didn’t quite feel.

Jaune made no motion to leave, still standing there, fists trembling in vain.

Once last thing. Weiss still itched with it, the need to yell and demand and   
explain. She wanted desperately to hurt him. But even Weiss could see she had done enough damage. One last chance to smooth it over. Do something right.

“I still think…” she took a deep breath. “You did the right thing, coming to see me.” 

Because I needed to know Ruby was okay. Because I was lonely. Because I needed to feel like I wasn’t forgotten.

Thank you, for that.

The important things remained unsaid, as always. Where they couldn’t be used against her.

Jaune laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I don’t really care what you think, Weiss.”

“Yeah,” Weiss said, smiling despite herself, “I know.”

Jaune was leaving again. Weiss was alone again.

And it was quiet, after that.


End file.
